


They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

by skittenninja



Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober 2020, internal bleeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittenninja/pseuds/skittenninja
Summary: Whumptober2020 Day Ten: Giant monsters in the woods are usually a problem for obvious reasons, but this one in particular has left Stiles with a less obvious, life-threatening problem.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Whumptober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949905
Kudos: 20





	They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

It really hadn’t been a good week for Stiles.

First there had been the English test that he had completely forgotten to study for thanks to a night full of running for his life. Then on Wednesday one of his favourite shirts had been ruined on account of him running for his life. Now, he was stuck clutching his abdomen and bolting for Roscoe while _running for his life_.

He heard a roar somewhere behind him followed by what sounded like an entire tree cracking in half. Stiles wished that they’d listened to Lydia when she told the two of them not to go alone, even just to investigate, but it was too late to dwell on that fact now. He’d let her give them a thousand ‘I told you so’s later.

Lightning fast footsteps suddenly caught up to Stiles and matched his pace. He knew instantly it wasn’t the monster, which was a relief, but the fact that Scott had needed to flee was worrying. They would probably need to come back with an inordinate amount of support in order to take the thing down.

Scott grabbed his hand as another tree cracked back in the woods, pulling him along just a little bit faster without causing him to trip. They were so close to the parking lot, the sight of Roscoe a saving grace for both of them.

Stiles reached the driver’s side door but found that Scott had the exact same idea.

“Stiles, you can’t drive like this,” Scott said, tone full of concern as he eyed the way Stiles was clutching his chest just under his ribs.

“I’m fine,” Stiles replied, though Scott shot him a look that let him know he’d been caught in a lie. “And you’re not touching the steering wheel with monster goo on your hands.”

Another roar thundered from the treeline, and not another word was exchanged. Scott could clearly sense that Stiles wasn’t going to back down here, so he quickly ran to the passenger door as Stiles climbed into the driver’s seat.

By some miracle, the jeep started with no trouble, and the two of them sped off onto the open road and away from the giant menace of the forest.

Stiles cheered in relief, expecting Scott to do the same, but his friend didn’t copy the gesture. Instead, the concerned look from the parking lot never faded from his face, even now that they were hurtling farther and farther away from the danger.

“Well, I got to keep my shirt _and_ I already finished that project for economics, so I’d consider this one a win.”

“You sure about the shirt part?” Scott asked. It was clearly meant to be a joke, but it lacked the soft smile that usually came with it.

Stiles glanced down for a second and saw a large vertical tear down the left side of his t-shirt, which coincidentally happened to be the side that was causing him the most pain. There was no blood, however, so there was totally nothing to worry about.

“Damn it,” he muttered, looking back up ahead at the road.

When his eyes found the moving pavement, however, he was overcome with a strange onslaught of dizziness, the beginning of a headache threatening to take root in his skull. The road was moving too quickly and too slowly all at once, like they’d both been thrown about three miles forward and come to a grinding halt. There was a sudden chill, but not in the air, like winter had decided to come early and make a home in Stiles’ bones. His limbs felt detached from his body, the kind of feeling you get when you lie in the same position too long and find that one side of your body won’t move right, only it was everywhere.

The sound of his name grounded him again, though the symptoms didn’t disappear.

“Stiles?” Scott asked again quietly, like any sudden noise might make whatever was happening worse.

Stiles turned his gaze briefly towards his friend and instantly regretted the decision. His dizziness increased tenfold and his stomach lurched along with it, an uncomfortable nausea brewing inside.

“What?” He asked, though even to him it sounded wrong. The word fell too heavily from his lips, talking underwater while he was still on dry land.

“Stiles, you need to pull over. Something’s not right and I can smell it.”

“ ‘m fine,” he mumbled, “just tired.”

Stiles couldn’t even see Scott, gaze focused on the road that was starting to warp more and more, and yet he could feel his friend’s eyes locked on him.

“Stiles. You _need_ to pull over.”

A blinding headache suddenly hit him like a sledgehammer, and Stiles barely had the coherency to slow the car down and bring it to an abrupt stop on the gravel shoulder of the road. There was an invisible knife in his left side, stabbing and poking under his skin and prompting an agony he couldn’t escape.

The driver’s side door opened, and he could feel Scott’s hands on his shoulders, the gentle touch a striking juxtaposition to the pain inside him.

Scott was saying something, but Stiles couldn’t really hear him, couldn’t bring his brain to focus on the words when it was drowning in the aching of his head and the nausea bubbling up inside of him.

He was being carefully helped out of the car, but his foot had only just hit the ground when the icky feeling finally boiled over. The pain in Stiles’ chest surged as vomit hit the ground. After everything settled slightly, Stiles got an unfortunate glimpse of it as Scott helped him around to the other side of the car, and it looked ugly and way darker than it should.

That probably wasn’t supposed to happen.

He could feel the car seat press against his back again, then a second later a hand was on top of his. The horrible sensations all over his body were promptly diminished almost entirely, headache and burning chest leaving long enough to allow Stiles a moment of respite.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Scott standing in front of him, passenger door still open. Black lines traced where his veins were and his eyes were shut tight in both concentration and pain, taking the burden off of Stiles if even just for a moment.

They didn’t have long, however, and Scott knew this. After only about ten seconds his hand left Stiles’, moving to shut the door before he raced around to the driver’s side again. The jeep was speeding down the road before he knew it and Stiles could feel the symptoms creeping back into his body again as time passed. Scott’s solution hadn’t been permanent, but it wasn’t meant to be either.

His vision started fading when they reached the town’s borders again, and by the time they reached the hospital Stiles was hanging on to consciousness by a thread. It was hitting him full force in a horrible encore and the entire experience completely terrified him, losing a fight to his body from the inside out.

The last thing Stiles remembered before it all went black was the feeling of Scott’s arms as they carried him into the hospital, taking the pain away once more.


End file.
